Shauna Vayne and the Ensorcelled Shadow
by Fictional Drew
Summary: Shauna crosses the continent to the Voodoo Lands. She believes a country-wide ritual grips the outcasts who live there but she doesn't know what the ritual intends to do nor who cast it. It's a four-day trip. She must arrive as soon as possible. The Hastur family needs her.
1. Voodoo is haunted by black magic

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters, monsters, or locations henceforth. They are property of League of Legends and Riot Games. Thank you for your time and consideration.**

In which Voodoo is haunted by black magic...

Shauna Vayne's continental map of Runeterra showed a serious concentration of dark magic. It showed up as scabs coloring the region with crusty brown and black on the tan canvas. She chipped at it with her nail until it cut her, refusing to peel off. Her map was only supposed to pick up evidence of arcane magic. The kind of magic that summoned demons. Dark rituals. This scab blacked out the Voodoo Lands. This was evidence of no small-time hag. This was bigger than any warlock. This was no hell-summoning. This was a whole city.

She didn't know what the scab meant. She only knew it was bad and it wasn't being stopped. It crawled over the entire region.

She assembled her hunting equipment and hurried for Voodoo mentally preparing for what she'd find. In reading, she learned that six years ago, the first Voodoo settlers emigrated from a larger city-state north of the lands. It being so recently, the travelers – or rather, exiles – would still be there. She needed to investigate the man and woman who had led their people to Voodoo. She put a black X beside their names to remind herself to immediately find the man and woman.

If they were not involved, then what? The Hasturs were Voodoo's city governors. They had to notice if something was going wrong in their city. Dark magic fed off of sacrifice. It gave one thing in expense for another as payment. Vayne had to then identify what was being sacrificed. Rituals required certain energies before the magic completed. Life energies were the most likely ones. They included blood – energy of the heart. Emotion – energy of the mind. Spirit – energy of the body. Sun – energy of the earth. Something terribly wrong was happening in Voodoo depending on which energy the ritual used. She imagined hundreds of livestock being led to a slaughter. Teenaged lovers having sex over a symbol. Gray faced children with no playful joy. Decaying trees with branches thinner than brittle bone. Each scenario sickened her. The ritual fed on something. She didn't know what. If the Hasturs were paying attention to their city, they might know. And if they were responsible, they surely knew.

From her home, she faced a four-day stallion-ride to Voodoo. She lived on the west coast. Voodoo almost bordered the eastern seas. She needed to cross the entire continent as swiftly as possible or she was too late. She didn't want to think of what she might find if that were so, so she needed to hasten her trip using any means necessary.

She went a few hours south to the Great Barrier. This mountain range went all the way from one sea to the other. Along the way she needed to find the Morgon Pass to get on the southern hemisphere. She wasn't about to scale thousands of meters into the sky up some of the most treacherous slopes and peaks. She didn't trust her climbing abilities up those mountains. The Pass was the safest route between North and South Runeterra. It was the halfway point of her journey.

To get there, she wanted to find the fastest raptors on the continent. She wanted to fly.

A scarlet-feathered breed nested along the lower peaks a few hundred meters above sea level. They used these altitudes to spy on prey close to the ground. At their fastest, these birds zoomed faster than the wind around them. They speared through the air. These speedy eagles were the ticket to get cross-country. The only problem was finding one large enough to support her weight.

Near the sloped rocky feet of the Great Barrier, sparse trees sprouted up as tall as one-floor houses. A few here, a few there. Thin. Bald. Their naked branches craned upward dying for water. The trees needed soil and nutrients that the Great Barrier didn't have. They jutted out from between crevices so far down, their roots embedded deeper than the mountains. One of Runeterra's gods speckled a few seeds across the side here like a baker tossed herbs on top of a roll letting them fall where ever they wanted. They were sparse. There was no place to hide.

Vayne crouched at the roots of three trunks barely thicker than her arms. They covered some of her body, but sharp-eyed eagles like the ones she hunted would have spotted her already. She leaned forward between two trunks. She found two raptors in the sky who matched what she was looking for. They circled each other. Their agitated wingbeats and rapid cawing sounded like they hadn't eaten yet. Since most animals reared their heads in the morning and went outside as soon as they woke up, the raptors were alert for these small sleepy animals.

They revolved round and round each other. Using this side-by-side tactic, nothing escaped their sight.

She loaded a silver bolt into her crossbow. She pulled tightly the chamber until it clicked in place. She cradled her crossbow and pulled its handle across her cheek. The sights on the tip of her bow pointed her gaze. She locked aim on one of the raptors. She nudged her aim upward. From this distance there was no way she'd hit them but she'd come close.

Her pointer finger nestled over the trigger.


	2. Vayne needs a vehicle to reach Voodoo

In which Vayne needs a vehicle to reach Voodoo.

A hunter follows movement. As soon as her prey moves, she zones in. She doesn't miss a flinch. A sweat drop. A heart beat. Tunnel vision blocks out the world. All she sees is prey until it's in her claws, in her beak, and in her mouth.

Shauna Vayne knew these ways. She trained her senses to snatch the slightest movement. She knew, deep in her core, how to do this as if hunting was her second nature like flying was to birds.

Her bolt zipped between two red raptors who were on the hunt. Like good hunters, they followed it. Their bodies formed tight bullets and dove after the silver thinking they were about to catch their prey, but she had distracted them.

She ran out from her hiding spot with three more bolts in one hand and her crossbow in the other. On legs like a windmill racing her up an increasingly higher slope, she pursued the birds. Her crossbow bobbed up and down with her pumping arm while she loaded the next bolt. Ahead, a tiny thud marked where her first shot pierced the mountain-side. The birds landed on either side of it, screeched, realized they'd been fooled. Their scarlet bodies reflected the sunlight with flaming red flutters of their wings.

She pulled her crossbow's trigger while sprinting. The bolt sang through the air and into one raptor's underbelly with a satisfying punch. Its legs wobbled and dropped. It wailed skyward with a cracked voice. Its mate who was bigger turned on her.

Vayne wanted that mate.

She loaded her second bolt as soon as the mate's wings kicked wide. It flapped upward higher than the trees. It pinned her from above with animal eyes studying the meat on her bones. Its beak snapped.

She shot the one on the ground and almost missed. If she took her eyes off the mate for one second, she was a gonner. That raptor's raven eyes gleamed. A starving animal didn't stop at pain. It went berserk. It went after food with every inch of its life.

She blindly fumbled the third dart in place when talons clicked madly towards her. The injured raptor flashed downhill. She emptied her crossbow in its face and it fell.

Talons screamed. A sword for a beak. The wind knocked out of her chest. Her feet left the ground. The world dropped beneath her. Ribbons of clothing tore off her shoulders slicing a breeze through her joints. She couldn't see. A mouthful of soft scarlet blocked her nose and mouth. Cawing filled her ears. Her back slammed on the rocky slope. The mate had bull-rushed straight into her chest. Glistening sickles unclasped her shoulders. The weight lifted off her chest. She wheezed while turning onto her right side. She faced downhill where the bird banked high into the air.

"A huge chicken knocked you over." She lodged the crossbow into her back where a couple buckles locked it in place. "A chicken!" She rose, flexed her arms with every ounce of strength, and assumed the body-guard position to take this raptor by hand. She didn't want to kill this one, she didn't even want to hurt it.

With a few flaps of its wings it rocketed.

She sprinted.

She grasped behind its claws. It's weight shoved her backward. Her toes lifted off the ground. Wind ripped through her hair, ears, wounded shoulders. It carried her higher than the trees. She hung on for dear life where she roared with success and fear. Somehow, she had to mount its back. After all, she couldn't hang on forever. Her legs dangled.

She flew at breakneck speed along the side of the Great Barrier.

She adjusted her hands swiftly to face forward just in time. A jut of rock protruded at her knee. She lifted her leg, it hammered her shin, the impact swung her to one side. She grunted. She ran in mid-air as fast as her bruised legs could.

The slope got sharper until she skated along a vertical scarp. The bird took her so close to the face that when her toes hit rock, she was sprinting. She zoomed along the Great Barrier at the same speed as the bird. Her thighs burned. Her shin pained. But she couldn't stop moving. She hurdled over cracks that grasped at her heels. One mistep and she would lose balance.

Using extreme core effort from an abdomen burning with power, she jerked the bird downward. She let go and snatched the first handhold to catch her fall. Her shoulder stabbed with pain and she cried out. The raptor plummetted beneath her. Her fingers slipped. She tumbled after it grinding on the mountain. She inhaled dirt and dust. It smelled like dried blood that flaked off of a scratch. She broke every bump on her way down. One vicious rock clubbed her ribs, shoved her, spun the world around her. She lost direction. Half of the world was blue, half of the world was brown. They wheeled around her like a drunk dream spinning her faster than she could follow.

She crunched her powerful core muscles. Her arms revolved. She somersaulted until her body formed an arrow pointing down. When she focused on the raptor flapping a few meters below, she reached for its back. "You are mine."

She sank her hands into red feathers. The taste of dry fluff stuffed her nose and mouth. She blinded herself in its neck. Her thighs squeezed its ribs. The entire bird's body rippled with muscle inside her arms and legs. It bobbed its wings with a fluid strength that outweighed and outmatched her. It was twice her height. Its wingspan was wider than a two-lane street. When its wings beat down, it captured powerful air pockets that ripped it forward. Easily, this monster ruled the low sky. Its wild strength demanded respect. It nearly toppled her and tore her heart out.

But it didn't. She listened to her heart. It hammered in her chest like a sledgehammer driving into her again and again. Proof that she was alive and she had beaten it.


	3. Vayne's head tricks her

In which Vayne's head tricks her.

Shauna Vayne and the raptor flew the rest of the day until they reached Mogron Pass. The sun set over the western horizon. The sky purpled with night-time.

To make sure the bird didn't come after her in mid-air, she fired a silver bolt through the sunset and dismounted in the opposite direction.

She dropped like a pencil feet-first. Her crimson cape flared up. It consumed a pillow of air and formed an enormous velvety pocket that slowed her descent to the feet of Mogron Pass. While floating, she craned her neck upward and spotted the raptor. It chased the silver streak out of sight behind a craggly charcoal hill. She heard a starving howl on the other side.

Her feet thudded on the ground picking up clouds of dirt. Half of her body was covered in grit already. The cloud settled on her and sank into her skin where it filled her with mucky weight.

Her weak knees wobbled as she trudged to the feet of a staircase leading up.

The steps were hewn inaccurately out of the mountain-side. Some of them were as short as her ankle. Others were as tall as her knee. Half of them tilted to one side or the other. The uncertain incline led straight up where Mogron Pass paved her only way south. She had never been through it. She never needed to. Of all regions in Runeterra to have a dark magic scab, Mogron Pass had been spotless.

That didn't mean it was safe. Evil lurked around every corner.

As she climbed, the scent of parched dirt gradually dried out her senses. Her lips cracked. Her eyes reddened and squinted. She approached an arid region that foreshadowed a bitter wasteland, waterless, hungry, inhospitable. It radiated heat making the air haze and distort.

The staircase widened into a bridge made of tan sandstone and red bricks interlocked like a checkerboard. The bridge had been carved in the bottom of a ravine at least a kilometer long. On her left and right, the Great Barrier towered. The mountain chain grinded against the sky's belly.

This was a well-traveled route once upon a time. Dozens of people went through this canyon. The ghosts of caravans and traders whispered into her ear as she walked between hundreds of imaginary people. Her boots echoed back at her. Her clothing rustled. Something about this silence raised the hairs on the back of her neck. She felt tiny. Abandoned between stone giants. She was a nervous child with no cupboard in which to hide. She swiveled side to side searching for a better route. A path with a height advantage that overlooked the Pass. Anything that didn't have her in the middle of an arena surrounded by a hundred nightmares. She took out the crossbow from her back and loaded it. Her left hand clutched three more bolts.

The ghosts in her head whispered louder. She didn't make out what they were saying. All she heard were snippets of conversation. A word came out here and there. "Come." "Mummy." "Last chance." "Awful!" Dozens of people spoke at once. All of them converged on her. These were the people who used to take Mogron Pass. They told her things. They warned her. The louder they spoke, the more urgent they sounded. Their voices hurried. They fumbled over their words. She searched left and right for an origin. Up in the violet sky she scanned for people. She narrowed her focus down the road. She turned on the spot, searched behind her, found nothing. Just a trail of her own footsteps coming from the bridge's edge.

They culminated behind her neck. She felt their breath on her spine. They shouted at her!

Silence fell. The pressure in her head escaped like a ribbon of sand twirling out of her ear. The figment caught a tailwind and carried itself away majestically. In the fading light it almost glowed silver as it reached up, up, and away.

One final voice boomed in the back of her head, a girl's, she sounded tiny. "Don't be a scaredy cat!" An infant giggle followed. A chilly finger dragged down her spine.

The grip on her crossbow tightened, creaking her gloves and the wood of her weapon. "Who is there?" Her voice shot like an arrow. It filled the Pass with enunciated glory from the very center. She stood alone, dirty, and injured, but hey, at least both feet were on the ground.

No answer.

She cleared her throat and spoke sharper. "I heard the innocent cry out. Where are they? Speak!"

All she heard was her labored breathing. An arid breeze sailed her. A bird cawed far away.

She wondered if her nerves had summoned her inner child. The voice sounded almost like her when she was six. She remembered being that young. Those were better times when she didn't fear every corner. When she didn't hunt down darkness. When she didn't worry herself to death. The voice was right. There was nothing here to fear. She was alone. Her inner child repeated its advice in a six-year-old voice. She gulped, unloaded and put away her crossbow, and hid the bolts. Her hands felt empty without them but that was okay. She took the hand of her inner child and went safely through Mogron Pass.


End file.
